


i will not tire of you

by cosmicpoet



Series: momoharu week 2018 [7]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eating Disorder (implied), F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Simulation, postgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 15:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14335272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicpoet/pseuds/cosmicpoet
Summary: Harukawa wakes up and finds out that the whole game was just a simulation. But she now faces new challenges - she's plunged into a world of hurt as she's not allowed to see Momota.





	i will not tire of you

As she stumbles out of the wreckage, Harukawa finds herself blinded by a sun that doesn’t seem quite right. She fumbles for Saihara’s hand, clutching onto Yumeno as she helps her up. There’s a distant sickness in her body, like a second _existence_ inhabiting part of her reality, another person – perhaps with a purple glint in their eye – telling her to be strong, to carry on.

But the sun, god, the sun is blinding. It’s too white, like it’s the end of the world, and everything around it seems to burn out of view. Like setting an old photograph on fire and watching the people – stuck in their fragmented snapshot – curl into themselves as they simply become destroyed. She grasps onto Yumeno as Saihara reaches out towards the sky, and her body begins to burn.

“W-What?” Yumeno says.

“I-I don’t know,” Saihara replies, shakily.

“Neither do I,” Harukawa says, steeling herself, almost letting the other person inside of her take over, “but it’s okay. Hold my hands.”

She feels Yumeno’s grip tighten onto her as Saihara stops reaching for the burning sun and instead holds onto her. She’s standing steadfast, pushing them behind her as if she can somehow shield them from harm; but the pain is coming from all sides now, and as she burns, she notices that she is emitting light from every inch of her aching body. When she closes her eyes, and grips her friends tighter, she explodes into fire, but it feels like starlight.

* * *

 

Gasping for borrowed air, her eyes snap open to see that she’s no longer dying under the burning sun. She is, however, still surrounded by walls tiled in headache-white, and something is pinning her down to a bed – she realises that it’s the weight of her body. Strangely, this is the only thing that tells her that this can’t be _death,_ because death will always be weightless, like when she saw Momota die miles away from the ground…but that’s all gone, now. He’s gone.

When she hears a sound from across the room, she notices that a door is opening…so she must have a door. So this _is_ a room. And a woman, dressed in what looks like a nurse outfit, walks in. But…Harukawa’s eyes adjust, and –

_no, it can’t be._

_But it is._

The woman’s uniform is made of the wrong kind of colours. It isn’t as white as the rest of the room, it’s…red…and black…the only white being vague lining on the inside. And there’s a logo…something that makes her want to squeeze her eyes shut and burn again.

_Team Danganronpa._

“W-What the fuck,” she stutters out, her mouth dry, “what are you?”

“I’m your nurse, Harukawa. Please keep up,” the woman says, sternly.

“B-But…I…”

“Listen. The game you were in was a simulation. You’ve been in here, monitored and hooked up to something called the Neo World Program, the entire time.”

“S-So…everything…everyone…they weren’t real?”

“In a way, yes. Everyone you knew in the game was a character, a fabrication, but they’re all based on the real people who auditioned for Danganronpa.”

“So they’re…alive?”

“Yes. But they’re not who you think they are.”

“Momota…he’s alive?”

“Yes, but he’s not the Momota you knew in the game.”

“But he’s _alive,”_ Harukawa tries to sit up, but she fails. There’s an intense weight in her body, probably because she hasn’t actually used it in a while, but she just aches to see him, to hold him, to tell him everything she was too weak to tell him before he died. Her heart monitor beeps faster now, the excitement and anxiety in her chest pulling her away from her false reality and towards him, but the nurse pushes her further into the bed.

“No, Harukawa.”

“Let me fucking see him,” she spits.

“That’s not allowed.”

The nurse adjusts something in Harukawa’s IV, and despite her whole body burning with a terrifying destiny, she slips further underwater in her mind, until everything once more burns out into black, and she falls into a restless sleep.

* * *

 

Finally, she’s alone when she wakes. Through the tiny window in her door, she sees that the lights in the corridor are off, and she suspects that it’s night-time; treading cautiously, she sits up on her bed and works out how to use her body again. She finds that she can move her IV drip on wheels, and when she slowly walks across her room, she finds a small bathroom leading off from it. There’s not much in there – she suspects that the nurses won’t want her to have razors or anything – but there’s a small tube of toothpaste and some toiletries.

It’s enough to make her feel human again.

Especially the shower; she rips out her IV and it hurts like hell, but she loves watching the blood pour from her arm and down the drain. She supposes that the nurses didn’t want her to have this much independence yet, but they obviously underestimated just how much she could overcome adversity.

And so, she doesn’t even bother to dry her hair before slipping back into her hospital gown and trying the lock on her bedroom door. It’s locked, but she’s learned a thing or two from the game; she bites her nails down to sharp points and breaks them off trying to open it. Her hands end up bloody and exhausted, but with a final push, the lock comes loose and the door opens.

Cautiously, checking over her shoulder at every corner, she traipses the hallways, seeing that all the doors are marked with names. Whilst she’d love to go and speak to everyone, there’s only one person she’s here to see. And she finds his door – _Momota Kaito._

When she pushes it, it’s open. She suspects that the nurses haven’t bothered locking it when she sees him inside, unconscious, his hair longer than it was in the game, tangled and loose as it falls around his sleeping face. For a moment, all she can think of is how he looked when his body fell out of the rocket; peaceful, but terrifyingly _dead._

She can’t help it – she tries to shake him awake. But he remains stuck in his coma, and her throat closes up as she thinks that he might actually _be_ dead. Her hand falls onto his chest, and the gentle, irregular movement tells her that he’s breathing. Not strongly, but he’s still alive. Slowly, she places her head above where she pictures his lungs are, holds his hand, and silently begs for him to wake up.

At least, however, he’s alive. That’s a lot more than she could ever have hoped for, given what she lived through in the game. And she’s content to just stay here forever.

Still…the universe is cruel to her. Momota’s door bangs open with such force that it almost shakes her from her position, but instead, she just holds tighter onto him. When she looks up, she sees a nurse standing there, her face livid with anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You have to let me stay,” Harukawa says, her voice strong, her body shaking, “I have a right to see him.”

“You have no rights, Harukawa. You signed them all away.”

“That wasn’t me! That’s not who I am now.”

“You signed the contract. You knew the rules.”

“I don’t remember any of that!”

“It doesn’t matter. And next time you try your little escape act, don’t leave a trail of blood leading right to where you are. It’s pathetic, and it’s extra work for the caretaker in the morning.”

“H-How could you? How could you be so _cruel?”_

“I’m not cruel, Harukawa. Cruelty is reserved for real people. Like you know, you’re just fiction now.”

“How I feel about Momota is not fiction!”

“I have a stack of documents about how we manipulated your personality that beg to differ. Besides, he doesn’t love you. He never loved you. You didn’t even love him. It was all a plotline.”

“Don’t you dare,” Harukawa says, biting back tears, “don’t you _dare.”_

“Don’t make this hard, Harukawa. Let’s get you back to your room.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“I _said,”_ the nurse purses her lips, “don’t make this hard.”

Brandishing a needle, she’s on top of Harukawa before she can even react. When she feels it slip painfully into her arm, her grip on Momota loosens, and she feels the world go numb – she’s not quite unconscious, but she can’t move her body at all. There’s the biting terror of being paralysed, and she can’t even speak as she’s dragged back to her room and strapped down to the bed.

Even when the drug wears off, she still can’t move. She feels like a patient in an outdated psychiatric hospital, strapped down to her bed, unable to have any freedom; it’s like she’s an animal caught in a trap, and all she can do is emit a primal scream in the hope that anyone – _anyone, especially if they’re named Momota –_ will come and save her.

But nobody comes. And she spends the next day stuck there, only being untied for a brief moment by the nurses to eat and clean herself. It’s the worst form of torture – to be denied of any autonomy, treated like a child, all whilst the love of her life lies, presumably still unconscious, in the same building as her. Just out of her reach.

* * *

 

Weeks pass, and she spends her life like this – at least, she assumes that weeks have passed. She gave up on counting her meals a while ago, and now she thinks that she could have been in here for years, as unlikely as she reasons that to be. Every night, she lies awake until sleep takes her – there’s nothing of meaning anymore, nothing to hold onto.

Until, one night, she hears a faint scratching outside her door. Curious, she strains to listen, but she’s still strapped down to her bed; she’s wondering if she’ll ever be allowed freedom when her thoughts are stopped in their tracks by her door opening. And she sees Momota.

Tired, emaciated, but still…beautiful.

“H-How?” Harukawa says softly.

“God, what have they done to you?”

“I…I tried to see you. Quick, get inside before they notice.”

Momota closes the door behind him and immediately runs to her side. It’s easy for him to unbuckle the straps that tie her to the bed, and with her newfound freedom, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down with her.

“When did you…I mean…I didn’t see you?” Momota says.

“I know. You were still, fuck, you were still…”

“Unconscious?”

She nods.

“They told me,” Momota says, holding onto her – it’s evident that he’s trying not to cry, “that you hated me.”

“God, Momota, never. Never ever. They told me…you weren’t…you were…we were a _plotline.”_

“Fuck it, Harumaki, we’re still so much more than that.”

“Why are you so…Momota, you’re skeletal. What the fuck have they been doing? Have they been giving you enough food?”

“Ah,” he awkwardly puts his hand behind his head, like he used to do, “about that. They…well, I’ve been awake for a good two weeks now. But they told me…I couldn’t see you. So I’ve been…kinda protesting it?”

“Tell me you haven’t been…not eating…you _idiot,”_ Harukawa pulls him closer and buries her face in his chest; she feels his ribs, and it hurts her to think of how much he’s suffered for her already.

“It’s only until they let us see each other properly.”

“It stops now, Momota.”

“Harumaki…please…”

“No, Momota. I’m not having you dying on me…again. Even if we can’t see each other now, it’s not forever. Think of this as…a second chance at life. So you have to _be alive.”_

“B-But…Harumaki, they won’t let me die. They’ll have to let me see you at some point.”

“And they will. But you need to eat. I can feel your bones, Momota, and it’s scaring me.”

“I’m…sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just promise me you’ll eat?”

Before he can reply, the door bursts open and a nurse – the same one who first found Harukawa in Momota’s room – walks in sternly. She doesn’t speak, but she pulls Momota from Harukawa’s arms and drags him down the hall. When Harukawa tries to run after him, another two nurses emerge and hold her arms back; she’s forced to watch Momota being hauled away from her.

“Promise me!” Harukawa screams, scared for his life.

All she hears in response are Momota’s harsh, terrified, guttural screams for her to come back, _please come back._

She’s sedated once more, and finds herself again restricted of her freedom. She feels something in her arm, and she’s overcome by the thick suffocation of sleep.

* * *

 

As she darts awake, she sees a different nurse in her room. This one looks…kinder – but Harukawa has already learned that there’s no kindness to be found in this place. Still, she coughs slightly to let the nurse – who is fumbling with something at the end of the room – know that she’s awake.

“I don’t want to be disturbed,” she says, startling the nurse a little. When she turns around, Harukawa sees that she looks younger than the rest; her face isn’t as hardened, and she smiles, a gesture rarely seen around here.

“I’m sorry, Harukawa,” the nurse says, “please, don’t be frightened. I’m Saito Haia.”

“Why are you keeping me apart from Momota?”

“I…we were told that it would hinder your post-game development, considering how close you two were in the show.”

“But you know that’s not true! You know it’ll only make me _better_ if I’m with him.”

“Yes, I believe that,” Saito says, “and I feel bad for not having mentioned to the other nurses my hypothesis on your mutual development. They’d only laugh…say I’m biased, because you two were my favourite charact- you know what? Never mind. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why exactly _are_ you here?”

“Because I want to break a rule for you, Harukawa.”

“Go on.”

Saito unfolds a wheelchair that Harukawa hadn’t spotted in the corner of the room. She unties the straps holding her to the bed, and shakily, Harukawa gets up and sits down.

“I’m going to take you to see Momota. Just for one night, and I’ll come and get you again before anyone else wakes up. You can’t tell a soul.”

“Why? Why do this for me?”

“Because I truly believe that you both need it.”

“Thank you,” Harukawa says, “but what if the other nurses notice?”

“They won’t. I’m working the night shift mostly alone tonight. They’re all out at some work function, they do it a month after the end of every series to celebrate…well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Celebrate _a successful series.”_

Harukawa doesn’t even have the energy to argue. Instead, she allows herself to be pushed down the hallway to Momota’s room.

Her eyes find purpose looking at him, and she bites back her tears as she rushes up and into his arms. They collapse together onto his bed, a mess of arms and legs and hot, rushed kisses; Saito smiles as she closes the door.

Finally – if only for one night – Harukawa can feel whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> Day Seven of Momoharu Week! Prompt: 'Simulation'. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this one! It's longer than the others and I think it's going to bring this series up to 10k words, which is awesome!
> 
> Anyway, leave a comment if you liked it please! :D
> 
> The title of this fic is from '10am Gare du Nord' by Keaton Henson!


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